Damned By Midnight
by SadameHime
Summary: They told her that you had to lie to survive. No, she didn't have to lie for herself. She lied for him constantly, even before she knew who he was. What was her beginning might be his end, and she wasn't about to let it happen. LaCroixOC Rewrite complete
1. Prologue

Damned By Midnight

Disclaimer: I don't own VTMB.

AN: If you are lucky enough to be reading this for the first time, you will need to know that the entire story is being redone from chapter one to chapter 3. This story is old, lemme tell you, and over that amount of time I have been very busy and consequently unhappy with how I started the story out. I plan to replace chapters one thru three in a matter of a week. Hopefully, you won't have had to deal with the many inconsistencies my stories have tended to have….. God, trying to write a novel has turn me into a writing snob and a grammar Nazi.

Prologue

The images were still fresh in her mind. Adelle, or Diana as they called her in her 'new' home, remembered her father's death pale skin, his confession to his loving wife, and ultimately the slaying of her mother. Her Aunt Cecilia had disappeared only a few weeks before her entire world was ripped from beneath a tiny, five year old girl's feet. She remembered seeing her too. Not only had both of her parents become vampires, but her mother had become a Kuei-Jin.

She didn't know the fate of her mother, or quite frankly, where her father and her aunt had gone. It was only by the hand of the hunter who 'saved her' that she came to be in LA anyways. Part of her saw reason to thank him, but all at once she hated him for it. Being so near the source of her pain had the potential to bring all those horrific memories back.

Luck was finally on her side, and those images ceased to haunt her now. She had been made immune to the terrors of the night by Grunfeld Bach, who found her weeping and screaming in a terrible fit of fear that wretched night she lost her family. There was a time she loved him for it, but that time had long passed. Like any young girl in their early twenties, Diana the Huntress no longer wished to tote around a semi-automatic rifle or other such weapons. She had not long ago taken to defying him, a notion which presented many large arguments within the chapel whenever she returned.

That night should have been one of those nights, that is if the LA Kindred didn't have plans for her. She walked into the unusually empty first floor of the Society of Leopold, looking into each side room to search for any of her compatriots. She found none of them.

Diana abandoned the search and continued into the chapel, where she found Bach facing the podium. He did not pray, but rather waited for her in an unnatural manner. When he turned, the young girl feared the worst. Someone had dominated Grunfeld Bach, and that was a feat she had never heard of.

"Adelle?" A faintly familiar woman's voice called out from behind her.

Diana dropped her bag right beside her feet. Balance grew threatened due to the situation and the stilettos that kept the Huntress on her toes. It was not the sheer shock of Bach's dominated state, but rather the shock brought on by the face that decorated the woman before her.

"Aunt Cecilia?"

A blond headed, fairly young looking woman stood before her, dressed like the office assistant she had been in life. She kept her skirt long and her suit jacket buttoned all the way up, as if merely the notion of a slutty office assistant repulsed her. She might have been mistaken for Therese Voerman, if not for how her lengthy, curly hair fell over her shoulders.

"Yes, yes it's me! I'm here to get you out of here!" She spoke sincerely, no power of the Kindred dripping out of her.

The huntress knew not what to think of the situation. Indeed, she wanted to take her Aunt's hand and run away. She wanted to leave Bach standing there in a state of catatonia.. But she knew better. She knew that behind her Aunt's smile there had to be other motives. Something drove her to come looking for her niece now of all days.

"Where have you been the last fifteen years of my life?!" Diana said, almost in protest.

"Working for the same man you've been trained to kill, the man who made your father and I who we are today. He gave us permission to bring you to your real home, Adelle, _with us. _It's a family affair now, really. Your father is LaCroix's assistant, as am I sometimes, but I am the Ventrue Primogen. I _will_ take care of you."

It all seemed to good to be true. Her family had suddenly returned, swooped into her life as if it could all be fixed. She hoped it could be. Without a doubt, Diana prayed for a second chance with her family. She did not know what she had gotten herself into as she picked up her bag and retreated with her Aunt into her own room. Everything was gathered up, and when Grunfeld Bach awoke from his trance, his beloved daughter 'Diana' was gone.

She would never shed that name. Diana understood that much as she rode in her Aunt's Lotus Exige S 240. The red metallic paint made the car fanatic in her squeal. She was in the car of her dreams, and Cecilia seemed to realize that as they drove quickly toward Downtown LA.

"You can have it, if you like. I have a Lamborghini that I like much more."

Magic words, those few sentences were.

It was with the offering that Diana decided to forget that her aunt might be reeling her into some kind of ruse set up by the Kindred. She didn't care. Cecilia was the same loving person she had been in life, only with a few minor changes. Those changes paled in comparison to how different things could be for Diana once she was reunited with her family. The thought of meeting LaCroix in the meantime didn't pass through her mind. She could only focus of her father.

Freeway exits and slower moving cars passed by in a blur that Diana barely cared to acknowledge. The only thing that caught her attention was her Aunt reaching into the backseat. With a grin, she put her niece's worries to rest. A swift movement pulled a short black dress from the backseat.

"Go ahead and pull it on. We don't have time to stop."

As Diana accepted the dress and began to strip almost without question, Cecilia reached forward to turn on the car stereo.

_Coin-operated boy. Sitting on the shelf. He is just a toy. But I turn him on, and he comes to life. Automatic joy. That is why I want --- a --- coin operated boy._

Diana had never heard the lyrics before, but her aunt seemed to enjoy the song, bobbing her head to the music and speeding up. As the huntress removed her clothes and tossed them behind her, she could only look to either side. She assumed that her aunt was going to fast for anyone to see her changing as the Lotus Exige passed them all up and forced dust down their throats.

_Made of plastic and elastic. He is rugged and long lasting. Who could ever ever ask for more? Love without complications galore.._

_That coin operated boy was beginning to sound good to Diana too. She had recently had some boy troubles herself in the shape of her now ghoul'd boyfriend, Dylan Shores. It was hard to be in a relationship with someone who had a liquid fixation on another man. She tried to forgive him for it, but it was hard to do. She feared that someday, her dislike for the whole situation might drive her to betray Dylan's trust. What a pity that this was to be the case that night._


	2. Introductions

_I was on the lookout for the wolf, the wolf, the wolf… _--- Destroyx, from Angelspit's song Wolf.

AN: (Inserts Malkavian inside joke here) But of course, Diana was not on the lookout for the Jester! XD

* * *

Cecilia's-- or rather, Diana's-- Lotus Exige sped down the streets of Downtown LA toward the Empire Arms Hotel. Any cops they happened to pass merely wrote them off. Perhaps something big was going on, and therefore, they felt it necessary to wave off hurried rich people.

Cecilia pulled into the parking lot with timed precision, and wasted no time climbing out of the car. As Diana stood, she barely had time to realize her aunt had thrown the keys at her. She managed to catch them and followed the woman who rescued her from a young adult's nightmare.

"So, to fill you in.. Its just a friendly gathering of the Kindred of the city -- your father's idea, actually. I decided to scoop you up tonight to make sure that no matter what happens, your father will have a good night. Caine knows he needs it after all the planning he's been forced to do."

Diana straightened out her dress as she struggled to keep up with her aunt. The dress was split down the front, coming together just beneath her belly button. She was thankful she had worn a black bra that day, seeing as it would have looked extremely tacky if it had been another color.

"Aunt Cecilia, why this dress?"

"hm? Oh.. Just what I grabbed," The French woman said innocently.

_Yeah right._

They walked through the doors to the empire Arms Hotel lobby, and the air churned with the strength of a great many Kindred. It had been awhile since Diana had felt something like it, and that only caused her to believe that the Primogen were there just as they had been on her last 'recon mission'. Then again, it had been almost ages since that night, and she might see some new faces.

Cecilia lead her down the hall to the right, where some of the city's most well-known vampires still stood in line to get passed the bouncer. The Ventrue wouldn't have it, and so charged through the crowd with her niece in tow, explaining her position to the bouncer and consequently getting through without much of a wait. The first thing Diana noticed about the room was the music.

_I've finally a reason to let it die, let it die. Like all the words, irrelevant and clean. Like all the girls before me, have you seen someone walking back from hell on their own? Well, I hope that you do.._

"Emilie Autumn," Cecilia chimed in," quite in tune with the dark spirit of the Kindred.. For one of the kine."

The name sounded like someone who would sing such dark, foreboding lyrics. Honestly, Diana found it appealing. It was as if the girl knew how the huntress felt about her own man, how angry she was at him for it all, how she just wanted to leave him there with his Tremere Master, Reynard. She bit her lip to hold back the musings, finding them inappropriate for what should be a celebration.

That was when she saw Reynard, conversing happily with his Reagent, Maximillion Strauss. Diana's eye twitched briefly at the sight of the awkward Tremere whose biggest concern might be bagging a Malkavian girl for the night, or perhaps making sure his red shirt _didn't_ go with his awful, bright green pants. He was like a fucking Christmas day massacre…

"You look angry, Adelle. Come over to the bar… You're father's talking to the Prince over there." Cecilia pulled on her niece's arm with as little force as she could.

And within a few seconds, they stood beside two equally blond men.. Both halfway through a thick, cold glass of blood. The older looking one was Diana's father, Louis Clare. His hair was a mess of golden curls, and his boyish face didn't make the look any less adorable. He instantly embraced his daughter at the sight, before she could say anything or move.

"Hi…dad.." She whimpered through the chocking hold of a bear hug from a vampire.

"Adelle! So wonderful to see you…all grown up.." He looked toward Cecilia," You really are the best sister a man could ever ask for.."

"Don't be thanking me, Louis."

"Ah! Can't believe I forgot already!" Her father quickly let her go, turning Diana to face the other blond man.. Sebastian LaCroix.

She blinked at him, knowing full well who he was. She once caught the man who raised her throwing darts at a drawn portrait of the Camarilla Prince standing before her. Their eyes met in a face-off between stormy grey and floral green. It wasn't much of a battle, as the stormy grey carried much more weight than Diana's dainty green eyes could ever muster. She looked away quickly.

"Once more, I can't express how thankful I am for your acceptance of Adelle returning to the family!"

"Nonsense, Louis. I could see that merely the knowledge of her presence in LA was effecting your work. If having her with you and your sister will make you do your job better, then she can be here," LaCroix looked over Diana, as if sizing her up.

Undoubtedly, he knew who she was. He likely knew that she was a Hunter, that he was responsible for her mother being dead. Maybe her father had forgiven LaCroix's role in it all, but Diana didn't know if she could.. Not quite yet, anyway.

Brother and sister exchanged a quiet glance. They sensed alternative reasons for Diana's 'rescue'. Whatever they were, those reasons remained unclear. They believed that those reasons would be cleared up before the end of the night. Something else was going on.

"Nonetheless, it is a pleasure to finally meet you, Adelle, was it?" LaCroix held out his hand.

Diana hesitated to accept, but finally did as she spoke," Yeah. That's it."

As she stood there, Diana found it odd that LaCroix surrounded himself with the cheery vampire members of her family. Then again, they both had all the reason to be as happy as they were. The two kept quiet, though, as if LaCroix and Diana needed to speak to each other without bother.

"I take it you wouldn't be thirsty," The Camarilla Prince spoke with a drink from his wine glass of blood.

"I'd take a strawberry martini, if I could get one."

He nodded, and with a mere snap of his fingers, the Bartender was instantly at attention.

"Strawberry martini for the lady, please."

He certainly ran the show, and sadly, that kind of thing was a turn on for Diana. As the old martini glass was lowered into her welcoming hands by the man with the power, she saw herself doing things she probably shouldn't be thinking of. A Sip of alcohol shut up the fantasies.

"One big happy family!!" Diana jumped in her skin at the out of place yell.

An equally out of place man slipped in to the area beside them. At least he wore a red shirt with some kind of style… paired with black skinny jeans.. Now if LaCroix would dress in an open 'party shirt' and tight pants.. _Damn. It. all!_

Diana took another drink of her martini as she blinked at the man who stood next to LaCroix with a boisterous grin which painted him distinctively as a Toreador. Those blue eyes said it too, rather seductive in their own right passed that brown hair.

"I heard you were gonna let Louis have his little girl, but I didn't think you'd actually do it.. Spread the word people, LACROIX IS A SOFTY!!"

"Have you been feeding off drunken Kine, Christian?" LaCroix asked, seemingly unfazed by the strange Toreador.

Simply at the name, Diana realized that the man who rudely intruded on their quiet gathering was Christian Hall, the Toreador Primogen. She never realized that someone like him could be a primogen..

"Hmm.. I guess I have," Christian spoke in response to LaCroix's question.

"Then get away from me." The Camarilla Prince swiftly shoved Christian away with a force that surprised Diana, but left the rest of those gathered around in a soft laugh. Apparently, this was a common happening. Christian was just the lively primogen.. There to make it worth something.

A familiar face passed by in the crowd, and also seemed to catch sight of Diana. This was the face of Isaac Abrams, Hollywood Baron and a man that the Huntress used to take dance classes with. She knew he wouldn't interrupt, but it was worth a shot to noiselessly beg," Help me.." She only received a grin.

"Little shit.."

"what was that?" Cecilia spoke quickly.

"Just saw someone I know.."

"I suppose that's good news. You'll get along just fine," her father encouraged.

By now, Diana had already finished her martini and set the empty glass upon the side of the bar. Those around her raised an eyebrow, including Christian. He seemed to be in tune with her more than she'd like. With a grin, he got in her face.

"Something's driving you to drink, little missy… Care to tell the tale?"

"Most certainly not.. Please get out of my face.."

Christian did not move.

"If there is one thing I have to teach you about Christian is that he won't move unless you force him," LaCroix delivered the necessary shove, and the drunken Toreador Primogen tripped onto the floor at the push.

"Thanks."

LaCroix didn't bother to respond with more than a smirk.

It was about then that a song Diana actually recognized came through the speakers throughout the room. Santa Maria Del Buen Ayre by Gotan Project. She felt a strange happiness bubble in her, almost like the first time she danced the tango. With a quick look around, she decided to voice it.

"Someone who isn't drunk, please dance with me."

Those around her responded by taking another drink from their glasses of blood…

"Alright then, if you're gonna play that way.. Why don't you dance with me, Mr. LaCroix?"

It sounded like a challenge, and the brother and sister pair knew that their Sire wouldn't refuse lightly. That is, if he refused at all. As if the blood could give him courage, the Camarilla Prince polished off his drink and took Diana's hand.

"Very well. I'm sure I'll catch on," He smirked at her.

He led her out to the dance floor as if he had all the experience he would need. Diana didn't doubt that. She was ready for whatever might be coming, hoping that in her few rebellious years, she had learned enough to keep up with a vampire in a tango. The pair of them stepped down just as the song kicked into gear, and they started out of the gate with it.

Diana was lead into an Abrazo hold, in which the two might look like a pair of passionately embracing as LaCroix lifted her right leg in what was known as a Barrida. In this step, his foot swept her own of the floor and returned it to the ground without loosing contact. Without a doubt, Diana had misjudged him.

Of course those watching the scene wouldn't know the steps, but they knew what they saw. Perhaps connections on a lusty level could in fact be feigned, but Louis and Cecilia saw just a connection between LaCroix and Diana as he lead her once again into a new situation; dancing across the floor in a quick, grape-vine like step.

The music slowed, and so Diana took the chance to shine for herself, performing a rather sensual and well known movement. She quickly raised her right leg against LaCroix's side, knee coming up to his elbow while they remained in their Abrazo Hold. While leaning into him, she slowly lowered her leg. When the music returned to its quick, tango pace, they took off into the furry that usually encompassed an Argentine Tango.

"Well, Louis.. Did you know that the Argentine Tango is so sensual that the Vatican outlawed it amongst Roman Catholics?" Christian spoke, having regained himself from the floor and beginning to watch what unfolded before him.

"What does that have to do with this?"

"That's what they're dancing. Thought it'd be interesting to know that your Sire and your Daughter are getting jiggy with it through their clothes."

Diana had been warm to LaCroix when they had started, but she practically seemed on fire now. It was a pleasant sort of fire, and amidst the dancing, he almost forgot his place. That practiced smirk had already faded into the lusty look one would usually see on a male Tango dancer. If his heart could be, he might bet money on the speed.

When he was alive, he never danced quite like this. This type of tango had yet to be invented, but the steps were essentially the same. That, and his Kindred blood, allowed him to lead Diana about like a man was suppose to do in his situation. He made her look good, and vice versa.

Most of the tricks were rightfully hers to do, including the fabelled 'flamingo kicks' in which her inner leg would intertwine with one of his own and kick in-between his two legs. Potentially dangerous, but it damn well looked amazing to spectators.

When the music stopped, it was Diana who stumbled back to the bar and called out for a drink. She ordered another strawberry martini as LaCroix stood beside her as she sat down. Her father turned to her as well, almost to ask her why she did what she did. There was no point in asking.

"I haven't danced outside of the classroom before, so that was fun!" Diana almost cheered.

The last martini had ruined her inhibitions already, but another was necessary in order to wash down the strange thing she was feeling at the moment. She wanted to swoop in and suddenly kiss LaCroix. It would be hard to resist… Considering she had been thinking dirty things about him all night.

"I have to commend you on keeping up.. How long have you been dancing?" LaCroix inquired, signaling for his own drink.

"Little over three years. Snuck around to do it, but I enjoyed it a lot more than what my 'foster parents' tried to make me do."

Louis looked between his Sire and his Daughter, wondering what might be brewing. The quartet stood at the bar, drinking and laughing almost happily, as if nothing had really happened on that dance floor. They all knew that to be a lie, and one could be sure they all thought of it as they left the Empire Arms Hotel.

Diana was full of strawberry martinis. The alcohol didn't stop her from thinking of LaCroix the way she had the whole night, and she understood that the moment she was presented was a rather perfect opportunity to sweep in for a stolen kiss. She grinned at the notion as she and her Aunt went toward the parking lot, and her father and LaCroix began walking toward the Tower.

Diana stopped where she stood, prompting her aunt to call her name. She still wanted to kiss him, and she decided that she wasn't going to ignore it. She turned to face LaCroix and ran to catch up to him. He turned at the sound of her footsteps, and so did her father. The human girl somehow caught LaCroix just as he turned, and passionately kissed him.

Her father wanted to blame the alcohol. The whole night had been a little off from the moment she had a martini, but he couldn't find it in him to believe that was the real reason. As LaCroix stood in shock, Louis Clare knew this wasn't the end. He would see his daughter a Ventrue before the month was out.

"Sorry, just….needed to do that," Diana spoke as she finally pulled her lips from LaCroix's.

She abandoned the scene quickly. All the way, she thought of the cool and tender touch she exchanged with the Camarilla Prince. Completely against his will, or so she thought, but nonetheless… the best kiss of her life. It didn't need any words to her. A dance was a dance, but a kiss was a kiss. You couldn't lie about a kiss, and a man who remained still during a kiss was a man plagued with indecision.


	3. Just a Game?

A Ballad of dark queen echoes through the night - Sahara by Nightwish

AN: Final chapter in the Damned by Midnight rewrite! So excited! I actually updated two chapters in one day, so I am very proud of myself. This one may take longer, however, as I need to fit much more into this one.

* * *

The hangover that usually comes with six martinis left Diana in a haze the next night. She knew that she was in LaCroix's tower, possibly in his office, for most of the night. She knew she laid down on one of those leather couches and pulled her jacket over her eyes in order to keep the light out of them. She also knew that her phone kept ringing with the tone that signaled Dylan's attempt at contact. She ignored it.

That is until it woke her up the next night…still on that leather couch.

Set me free, your heaven's a lie. Set me free with your love…

The moment she sat up to reach for her phone, her eyes met LaCroix's. He sat at his desk, leaning against his right arm. He looked slightly annoyed, and he stood as Diana reached for her phone.

"Are you finally going to answer that?"

Diana stared at the touch screen of her cell phone contemplating that question. Should she, in fact, answer the phone after Dylan refused to call her for two weeks? Should she talk to him like she always did, through a text message? Simply at that thought, she hit the 'call cancel' button, and accessed the texting panel.

She held up the phone to LaCroix, who was obviously curious about the whole situation.

"Fuck…off.." He read aloud," Eloquently put.."

Diana knew that it was sarcastic, but that didn't stop her from laughing as she hit send. LaCroix sat down next to her, tossing her black jacket over the arm of the couch. He seemed to be expecting an explanation..

"That was my boyfriend--err..exboyfriend-- Dylan Shores--"

"Reynard's ghoul."

"You already know the story then, I guess.." Diana's voice drifted off.

"Part of it, but certainly not your side. At the last meeting of the Primogen, Gary couldn't stop talking about the whole ordeal, as if it were some slice of celebrity gossip.. Reynard is a loyal member of the Camarilla and an astute man at upholding the Masquerade, and I suppose that's the only reason some might find it interesting. It was through all of this that your Aunt heard you were in LA; that Nosferatu has an obscenely big mouth.."

"Then you're mad that I'm here?"

"On the contrary. As I said yesterday, your presence improves your father's job performance."

"Mr. LaCroix, that's not an acceptable answer."

"Why not?" He blinked at her.

"Because you're talking to me like a business associate, which I am obviously not. I laid on this couch all night, hung over all to hell, and you let me stay. It really doesn't sound like you, or at least the you that I'm talking to right now.." Diana leaned back in the seat.

"Let me explain something to you, Adelle. There is this thing called opportunistic compassion, and I assure you, that is the only thing that allowed you to stay here on this couch. Tell me.. Do you remember much about last night?" He asked as if something needed to be known… and it made her nervous.

"Not really.. My neck hurts though."

Just looking at him made her realize he must have made a dreadful mistake the previous night. She raised her hand up the spot where her neck made its pain known and she felt exactly two scabbing holes, about as round as a vampire's canine tooth, she figured…

Dear god. LaCroix bit me!

The Camarilla Prince only grinned, knowing full well she had realized what happened. "I could have bit you at the Empire Arms Hotel, no one would have thought anything of it after that little dance of ours. I really couldn't help it, you see. I sat there, watching you groan and moan in your helpless fit of post-party pain, and still I felt your heart beating in my head like we were dancing once again. You have no idea how warm you were to me, how pleasing that is to a vampire. Its one of the reasons many of us hunt in clubs, but I hadn't fed straight from a human in quite some time.. You were just laying there helpless."

Did he expect her to simply shrug it off after all those reasons were given? Certainly not, she surmised as he leaned forward, almost as if he had a proposition for her.

"I know how you were thinking of me the entire time.. And its part of the reason I wanted your blood so much.. When a human gets 'turned on'," He paused, as if the term didn't belong in his vocabulary," their blood flows faster, and just like the rest of them, gets warmer.. I hadn't tasted anything like that in so long.. And much to my surprise, your blood was just as I thought it would have been, should I have bitten you while we danced.."

God, he sounded like a really horny, sophisticated and rich pervert, except he was talking about blood. It might as well have been the same, seeing as the whole idea made Diana want to jump on him. Maybe he wouldn't mind. Maybe LaCroix would do those twisted, dirty things with her just to make her blood all the more pleasurable. It sounded like a fair trade.

She didn't think about it, just like two nights ago, and pushed herself onto his lap for one of those random kisses. They were alone, and so nothing really stood in the way of their strange moment. LaCroix dove into the moment as much as she did, literally pulling her up against him so that nothing could fit between their bodies. It must have been the whole 'human warmth is nice' thing.

His cold body felt just as nice, better than it should have. She didn't like the warm, having always wanted to go north.. But a practically ice cold, smoking hot, rich, sexy vampire was better than snow any day. He made her want to tear everything off and be as dirty as possible.. She wondered if 200 years could really make someone so seductive.

She had never imaged LaCroix to be the type. He knew exactly how to get her going, and it almost scared her. If she stayed, she had no doubt this would happen again and again and again…until she died or was turned. Each kiss, each minor break to give her breath, left her wanting more. Her good night was rudely interrupted by her cell phone..again. This time, however, it wasn't Dylan.

Maybe I'm the one, Maybe I'm the one, who is, a schizophrenic psycho..

"Damn it…" She breathed briefly, turning on LaCroix's lap to reach her phone.

"Who is it now?" LaCroix asked, seemingly as annoyed as she was.

" My quote-unquote father…"

For the second time that night, she texted "Fuck off."

LaCroix didn't feed on her that night, but she knew that underneath all of this strangeness, there was a plot. He wanted more than her blood, more than her father's unwavering loyalty. Rarely ever did she leave the Tower, and when she did, it wasn't for long. She'd come back like a ghoul, every night at the exact same time. Relationships do that to people, no matter how fake they are.

Another night came, barely a week after their first physical encounter that LaCroix once more did not seem like himself. Perhaps he thought of what had gone on since he met Diana, including happenings with the primogen and the anarchs.. The only moment that mattered to Diana, however, stood before her in the shape of the double doors to the arms of her Prince. Her past and all recent moments slid out of her mind. Her supposedly dead mother did not take an ounce of her thought; Bach existed as a shadow. She cared only about what might happen when she opened the doors ahead of her. Silver receded into gold as she turned both knobs, and LaCroix waited for her alone.

Though he faced toward the large windows that took their place behind his desk, the Prince was more than aware of her arrival. The slight inclination of his head, and a quiet glance over his shoulder, gave Diana that knowledge. She thought, for the briefest moment, she saw him smile. His next comment alerted her to the fact it was not a smile, but a smirk.

"Your heart always beats like primal drums, you know.. it's a comforting noise sometimes. Other times, it's just as irregular and piercing as a fire alarm." He turned to face her.

His lower lip was stained from blood, which he drank slowly from a wine glass. He approached her, setting the glass on the edge of his desk. Diana could not bring herself to move. She felt her heart pound in her chest now, and the widening smirk on LaCroix's lips was enough to say he felt it too. He said something once, that her heart beat felt like his own in moments like these. But really, what were moments like these?

Distance closed. Little room existed now between them. They stood there like that for solid moments, and the smirk vanished into thin air. This was a very serious meeting between them, and only in this space in time did that present itself to Diana.

"I've made a decision, Adelle. I believe it will be beneficial to you, as well as to me," He paused, maybe to listen to her heart.

" I want to turn you, Diana. My unique position does not require me to ask anyone for this right. I could do it to you without asking, but my upbringing still lingers with me. Do you want to truly join this world?"

A nod was all it took.

She barely noticed him make his move for her neck. He had waited for this moment, longed to savor her blood. Pleasant and warm as he had expected, it took every fiber of his being to stop and quell the beast within him. He bit his own wrist to feed her the source of her unlife, and darkness consumed her before she felt his familiarly cold blood on her tongue.

* * *

AN: Damn straight that was completely necessary! The revamp has made this story fantastical, and it only took me two days. If only I could do that kinda work on a 153 page half of a novel.. -le sigh-. Anyway, REVAMP COMPLETE!!!


	4. The White Queen Makes Her Move

AN: Crappy chapter, I think..but I wanted to update badly.. It needed to be done more than I need ice cream right now. I think LaCroix gets a little OOC with Diana later on..but we never actually see him in that kind of situation so… (Evil Wink) Also, seeing that it has been a year since I started this fanfiction, I am considering scrapping this version and doing a redux. I'd like opinions, as I'm sure that with the Redux, I would be more inclined to update.

Christian Hall's Undead Sex Life Proverb Number one - " Give it time, baby, give it time!"

"The White Queen! She brews schemes and remedies to rival her dancing Jester and his circus of lies! She must hear me! Alistair, she must hear me!!" a maddened Malkavian Childe screamed to her primogen.

Alistair Grout peered questioningly at the girl whom had long been a companion. She, like the rest, saw terrible visions and hear whispers of great darkness. But only she heard the whispers of 'the Jester' as her mind so lovingly labeled a better left nameless Ventrue. The poor girl's red hair tangled into great knots as her polluted mind stirred the dusts within it. Tonight was going to be one of those nights.

"Who is the White Queen, Ophelia?"

The circumstances revolving around Ophelia were those that made him realize that her madness had its own foresight. She came to him long before he even thought of leaving his mansion, crying out about how he could supposedly help her, how they needed each other. She was practically the spitting image of his wife, to make matters worse, and it did little to make her stay less than eventful. In a matter of two weeks, she slept beside him.

That didn't keep her from falling into fits of madness despite all Alistair Grout attempted. This was one such fit, the likes of which he hadn't seen in awhile. It had been her who held the firm place to sanity in recent nights. She listened to him speak about LaCroix, allowed him to rid his system of the terrible whispers. Her mind had been quiet too long, he realized. Now was as good a time as any for her to spill out the truth from beyond the night.

"She of the Moon, of the Hunt, and of the Blood! Trick and tool she will be! Her Jester prepares a terrible Masquerade for her! You see and hear it too. You have told me!" the girl fell to her knees," Diseased dealings she has with her Jester! Knows him too well for the circus games! Blade and Brain she must bare to defeat the Blood of Caine! All is the Dark Father's will! The White Queen cannot save the darkly doomed Jester!"

Undoubtedly, she spoke of Diana. Ophelia crawled helplessly to his feet, crying out in her desperate fit of lunacy. Like usual, Alistair Grout gathered up the poor thing and sat there with her until she began to calm, muttering just above a human's threshold of hearing. She nuzzled her tear soaked face against his neck, as if the notion could aid her into calm again.

"So strange for a Queen to bed the Jester.. Her Kine Knights think to fight for her.. As if she could be saved. Silly, faithful kine.."

"Hunters? The Kine Knights are hunters, yes?"

She nodded against his chest," The White Queen was taken by the Jagged Sword as an infant. Raised her to fight the Jester, he did… I see it all clearly.. She dances without a sword, against the Jagged One's will! Rebellious and free spirited.. Pure as white snow until the Jester came and blackened her heart with blood!"

Ophelia saw more than he ever expected. The curse of Malkav boiled inside of her much more fiercely than he ever experienced himself. She yearned to speak, yet feared the consequences so that her madness stewed into a deeper insanity. The woman suffered because she feared…

On the next trip to the city, Grout decided to take Ophelia with him. He truly did not want to leave his home, but for her sake as much as his, he decided that attending this meeting of the primogen was necessary….

Diana sat quietly on LaCroix's desk in her usual perch. One week had turned her into his loving consort. They looked just right together in all of their dark shades of blue. Anyone who came to see the Prince could bet on finding Diana in his office, and it was beginning to wear on her nerves. While waiting for the Primogen, she decided to try a little something..

"Sebastian?"

"Yes, Adelle?"

She grinned softly as he insisted on calling her by her birth name," Is there anything I can do?"

"Like what? Be specific. There are a great many things you could do in here with me, though we certainly don't have time for that.." She didn't have to look at him to know he smirked at her behind her back.

"Don't tease me like that!" She protested, turning quickly to slide across his desk and land smack on top of him in his chair.

It was a trick she had mastered. With just enough force when she pushed off the floor, she could spin her body around in time to sit 'bridal style' on LaCroix's lap. She did just that as she looked up at him.

"Can't I do something productive? Oh! I have an idea! You could give me my own fashion company.. That would be interesting.."

"And suitable for you. I made the mistake of going shopping with you once.. I don't plan on making it again. You take far too long finding things that you find attractive."

Diana wrapped her arms around his neck, as if an effect could be made. " But I want to look my best for you.."

"You don't have to try so hard.. Trust me."

There was a time when she couldn't trust him. Then again, her entire world had changed in the time of a month. She trusted him more than she ever trusted Bach, or Reynard, or even Dylan, to speak the truth. She knew it to be a dangerous truth for many reasons. Though their time had been short, she saw the greedy bastard inside of Sebastian LaCroix. It was smothered only so that she could be well taken care of and 'loved'. It was their game.. Love.

A knock came from the door, at which time LaCroix slowly edged Diana out of his lap. It was a natural reaction for him whenever someone else's presence was threatened. She knew he considered her one of his few weaknesses. It was heartwarming, but also very annoying. So long as he saw it that way, no one else would ever really know how they were.

Cecilia spoke from the other side of the double doors," Grout and Strauss have arrived… They have guests."

"This has never happened before.." LaCroix whispered," Very well! Let them in, Cecilia."

Sure enough, the two primogen entered with women at their sides. Grout came with Ophelia as he had decided upon, but the woman beside Strauss posed as a complete mystery. She was much more beauteous than anyone would expect out of Strauss' companions. Her appearance betrayed not a single wrinkle upon her face; her bright green eyes deceived no one. The round, childish frame of it all made her seem so innocent.

"Might I introduce Rebecca Collins? She was the Tremere Reagent in San Diego, though a Sabbat attack has left her homeless. I took it upon myself to take her in to my Chiantry. Rebecca, this is the LA Prince Sebastian LaCroix and his wife for all intensive purposes, Adelle Clare-LaCroix."

Diana blinked as Strauss spoke. She had been aware of the ruse she took part in to explain her constant presence to the Kine of the LaCroix foundation, but she never expected anyone to address her with Sebastian's last name. She found it a strange mix of emotions. It was wonderful, but also deeply frightening.

"Good evening. The city appears to be in good hands." Rebecca spoke for the first time, betraying British origins.

"I assume this is Ophelia, Grout?" LaCroix imposed upon the quiet pair of Malkavians.

The poor girl merely nodded. She seemed just as petrified as her companion.

"Are you two alright?" Diana questioned.

She found it necessary to ask. In her little partnership with LaCroix, someone had to be the compassionate one. Part of her was shocked when Grout spoke.

"Yes, yes. we're fine. It is nothing we cannot handle, Miss Adelle, was it?"

"You can call me Diana; it is what I am used to."

"The White Queen is who she is. No change of name or title will make her anything else.." Ophelia gasped as she spoke.

"I see she is the more typical of Malkavians. Nonetheless, I suppose she is welcome so long as she doesn't cause a commotion, Grout." LaCroix dismissed Ophelia's words…but Diana did not.

"White Queen? Why such a title?" She spoke curiously, finding a place beside the Malkavian girl.

"White is the color of purity, and as LaCroix's consort, she finds it suitable to call you Queen. She calls Nines Rodriguez 'He after one through eight' and Christian ' he with the sagging pants'…whatever that is suppose to me."

Diana giggled, perfectly understanding Christian's title. It was a description of his 'looseness' with women. Those pants didn't stay on long..just like sagging pants.

"How long have you been in the city, Diana?" Rebecca smiled with a deceptively friendly undertone.

She and Strauss occupied the further leather couch. They did not remain close as they sat down, and that fact did not bother them. She seemed to disregard him as she indulged in conversation.

"Awhile, to be truthful. The whole story is for another time, though.."

"Well.. How long have you been LaCroix's consort?"

"Less than a week."

"Adelle, come here, would you?" LaCroix summoned her from where he peered out of the window, possibly to see if any other vehicles had arrived.

Diana did as she was asked, abandoning the Primogen and their women to sit in silence. She stood close beside him, expecting what he had to say to be private. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, and nodded as if to confirm her suspicions.

"You are making friends rather quickly."

"Is that a problem?"

"No.. No, it isn't. I can't keep you locked away forever." LaCroix shook his head as he leaned slightly against the window.

"Were you trying?"

"Perhaps. I fear they will turn you against me, and I can't have that."

"You're talking about the Anarchs, right? Don't worry about _that_, Sebastian. If they had the ability to poison my thoughts about you, they would have already done it. I've known Isaac Abrams as long as I've been in LA, and you know as well as I do that he hates your guts. I know I'm going to be hearing quite the speech when I see him next, but never mind that. What matters is that the other's are here.."

Sure enough, as they had spoke to each other as privately as they could, Christian arrived with his own companion, and the other Primogen filed in behind him. She caught sight of Cecilia sitting down near Strauss. She didn't know she was a primogen.

"Now that you're all here, I suppose its time that we tend to a growing problem."

LaCroix turned from facing the window, and all at once, Diana watched the faint emotion fade. He had become the Camarilla Prince that they all knew, sophisticated and strictly businesslike. She followed him down from where they stood and stood beside him as he had instructed her earlier in the day.

"The Sabbat are growing more aggressive. I'm sure you've all had to deal with some act of defiance. The fact of the matter is that we cannot ignore it, lest we betray the Masquerade by allowing them to 'show who they really are'. The Nosferatu are still attempting to locate their base of operations, is that right, Gary?"

"Yessir, _boss._" Gary answered from his place

"Now I can't be sure if the Anarchs are addressing the problem as well, but if things are as bad as they appear to be, we may need their help. I don't see them coming over to our side--"

"I can take care of that." Diana spoke up quickly.

"What?"

"I can take care of that, Sebastian. Let me talk to Isaac, at least. He should be able to pull some strings with the Anarchs downtown for me.."

"If it were that easy, you and I could just mosey on down to Hollywood and polish the old coot into doing us a favor, now couldn't we, Diana?" Christian laughed," He hates LaCroix, and the Camarilla along with him. Its gonna take a lot more than sweet talkin' to get his help.."

"That's the sad fact, I know. But he'll be easier to sway than Nines Rodriguez or any of his goons.." LaCroix's consort agreed.

"I think it is worth a shot," Rebecca chimed in," Now I don't personally know him, but it sounds like you do, Diana. Maybe he would be willing to give some aid, only for you, of course."

"The Witch-Goddess speaks truth. He of the Sin District will bend to the White Queen's wishes with the proper leverage." Ophelia covered her mouth, as if she didn't really want to speak.

"Its alright.." Grout sympathized with her.

"Then go to Hollywood tonight, Diana. It seems to be the agreed upon course of action."

LaCroix looked at his Childe with a fierce glance. She knew instantly that he suspected something out of her desire to go see Isaac. Whatever that might be, she understood that it was an ill-placed suspicion. She would have to deal with it later. Somehow, she could feel that this was just the beginning of supposed double-crossing between herself and the man she 'loved'.

"No more! The Jester mustn't judge the White Queen! Pure are her intentions! Godly and true as she! Stop the falseness!"


	5. Some Kind of Understanding

Christian Hall's Undead Sex Life Proverb Number 2 - " Just cause they don't, don't mean they can't!"

_And yeah, I don't care if you want me.. Cause I'm yours anyhow -_ I Put a Spell on You by Marilyn Manson

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AN: I am on a roll…too bad all my reviewers have got bust and disappeared. T.T Grah, its making me mad that no one reviews the stories I actually enjoy writing… To clarify, all the lyrics from songs that appear in this fic are usually being listened to while I'm writing. I find the following quote slightly Ironic..

_If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, its yours. If it doesn't, it never was. -_Richard Bach

Get it? The guys last name is Bach.. Tehe..

* * *

LaCroix might have addressed Ophelia's sudden outburst, and he had been prepared to. Grout saw the anger he feared bubble in the Camarilla Prince before his cell phone rang from the Prince's coat pocket, signaling that something had happened that went against the Masquerade. His lip twitched slightly as he turned away from the primogen and reached into his pockets, flipping open the phone.

"What?….. I see.. Very well, bring them to the Nocturne Theatre; we shouldn't be interrupted there."

As he closed his phone, he spared a glance in Diana's direction. Something had happened that certainly involved her. Did she deserve to know now? Perhaps, but the Primogen did not.

"Something has happened that requires the undivided attention of the Camarilla. If you could all go to the Nocturne Theatre and put out the word.."

That was all it took to dismiss them. Diana and LaCroix were alone again, and the thick air would have chocked them if they were human. She was angry with him for being suspicious of her, and he was feeling the pressure of recent nights.

"What's wrong, Adelle?" He questioned.

"You know damn well what's wrong."

"If its about what that insane Malkavian said, don't worry about it."

"Truthfully, its about more than that…" Diana came close to him, looking him up and down," are you just pretending to still… _want me?_ Now that I'm like you, I guess you can't exactly drink my blood anymore.. I'm dead. Its pointless for you to get me going so my heart makes my blood flow faster.. No point in it at all.."

"You think that because I haven't kissed you this whole week..that I no longer desire you?"

Diana merely nodded to confirm at least one suspicion," Did you finally tire of playing games with me? For Christ's sake, Sebastian.. You _married_ me! Maybe not with a big fancy ceremony, but we signed those papers… There's no one here, so you don't have to give me the 'to explain my presence' speech.."

"Did you expect me to genuinely love you, Adelle? I thought we had established that the marriage was a ruse! "

"Yeah.. Yeah I did expect you to love me. I get the feeling I was an idiot to think so…Just did this to keep my father in line, didn't you?.. You know what, forget it. Just fucking forget it. Lets go to the Theatre for whatever it is that's so important."

Diana didn't talk to him the entire walk. She was decidedly, and obviously, very pissed at him. It was a mutual thing; both of them hadn't found much reason to speak to the other. LaCroix's honest truth was that he didn't know how to react to Diana. She still had to adjust to life as a member of the Camarilla, and she was still swimming in a sea of kisses only meant to make her heart beat faster. Or was that really their only meaning?

He struggled with that thought as his wife walked next to him. Her own mind was wrestling with the notion of just why she felt the way she did about him. Everything about him turned her on, even now, when her hormones were suppose to stop working. Both of them knew how odd their whole relationship had been. It started with a dance, snowballed into a fixation on one thing or another, and now an avalanche threatened to fall on top of them. Sooner or later, they would have to figure this out.

It might just have to be sooner LaCroix realized as he came to find the source of the commotion. He had abandoned Diana in the Nocturne Theatre's lobby, and now stood before the Kindred that faced execution. Reynard and his new child lay motionless on the floor, staked through the heart. The boy beside Reynard barely looked over twenty, but it was hard to tell past that straightened black hair. He had a single lip piercing on the left side, and his pants looked way too tight. Whoever he was seemed like the sort the Tremere would Embrace.

Those that captured the pair did the job of dragging them onto the stage, where LaCroix would be addressing the Camarilla. Their stakes had been removed, and as they came to face their doom, Sire briefly spoke to Childe.

"Dee is bound to be out there.. Just go through the flow.. And you'll get to explain yourself."

"But -- Rey-- you didn't have to die for this.. Hell, I could die.." The childe spoke.

"Trust me.. No you won't."

Out in the crowd, Diana found a seat near the front. She ignored those that were the cause of the meeting for the time being, sitting down between Therese and Isaac. Being so close to the stage would give everyone the impression that she had as much to do with the proceedings as LaCroix, she believed. As she had thought, many pairs of eyes were on her.

Among those eyes were the dark brown irises of her ex and Childe in question, Dylan Shores. He saw her in a different light now that he was free of the blood bond. He saw her the way he used to, beautiful and wonderful in all her strange behaviors. He wondered how much she had changed since he last talked to her. He remembered quite well the infamous 'fuck off' message he received a week or so ago. Had someone taken her from him?

If only he knew.

"Good evening. My fellow Kindred, my apologies for interrupting any business, or interfering with prior engagements you may have had this evening." LaCroix stood before the Camarilla, addressing them now as everything began to unfold," Its unfortunate that the affair that gathers us together tonight is a troubling one."

Many eyes fell upon Dylan and Reynard, including those of Diana. She became tense in her seat, realizing that Dylan's life too hung in the balance. As much as she wanted to believe that LaCroix wanted her at his side, she wasn't ready to completely let go of Dylan yet. At least, she surmised, she would get to see Reynard's head roll.

"We are here because the laws that bind our society, the laws that are the fabric of our existence, have been broken," LaCroix moved further down the stage, finding himself standing before Diana who glanced up at him anxiously," As Prince, I am within my rights to grant or deny the Kindred of this city the privilege of siring."

Once more, he walked across the stage. He now addressed the opposite side of the room. It was in these moments that Diana realized with what eloquence he could speak. She had no such abilities, and she respected him for it. More than that, she slowly began to understand why he treated her the way he did now that she had been Embraced.

"Many of you have come to me seeking permission, and I have endorsed some of these requests. However, the accused that sits before you tonight was not refused permission. Indeed, my permission was never sought at all. They were caught shortly after the embrace of this childe," LaCroix motioned to Dylan.

"It pains me to announce the sentence, as up till tonight, I considered the accused a loyal and upstanding member of our organization. But as some of you may know, the penalty for this transgression… is death. Know that I am no more adjudicator than I am a servant to the law that governs us all. Let tonight's proceedings serve as a reminder to our community that we must adhere to the code that binds our society, lest we endanger all of our blood."

LaCroix now turned to Reynard who refused to struggle. It seemed that the well thought of Tremere was ready to die, like this was all in his plan. Somehow, LaCroix saw this in the mannerisms of the man who faced death. Still, he found it in him to wear the mask and whisper quietly to the Tremere, " Forgive me."

He stepped away slowly, catching the sound of Reynard's voice. "I'll forgive you when Dee smiles again.."

The Camarilla Prince prayed no one else heard him say it, for he well knew that some found it necessary to call Diana that strange nickname. Only a week had passed, yet a man whom he knew his Childe to despise was laying down his life as if it could make a difference to her happiness.

"Let the penalty commence."

Reynard's head rolled quickly after that. Most of the Kindred in the room looked away or bore a distinct look about them that signaled disgust. Diana was neither of those. She watched with a peculiar smile on her face, a smile that caused the Camarilla Prince to smirk to himself before he continued his sermon. She smiled again, which meant Reynard forgave him.

"Which leads to the fate of the ill-begotten progeny. Without a Sire, most Childer are doomed to walk the earth never knowing their place, and most importantly, the laws they most obey. Therefore, I have decided that--"

"This is bull-shit!" One of the Anarchs called out, standing to make his point heard.

Diana didn't know him, but she assumed this was the infamous Nines Rodriguez. His attitude just in that one moment made her realize she would never like him. She felt that he talked down to people almost as much as LaCroix, but did it in a way that it was blatantly obvious. She didn't like the look about him either… like some street-rat with a grudge.

"If Mister Rodriguez would let me finish.. I have decided to let this Kindred live. They shall be instructed in the ways of our kind, and be granted the same rights. Let no one say I am unsympathetic to the plights and causes of this community. I thank you all for attending these proceedings. Good evening."

LaCroix walked to the back of the theatre with Dylan, who seemed more than aware of his situation. The boy couldn't help but ask about Diana, rather than care to talk about what might happen to him outside that door.

"Mr. LaCroix.. Could you give this to Dee?" Dylan piped up.

When LaCroix turned to face him, the emo-looking Tremere held out an old piece of paper, thick but brittle with its age. It was the deed the Bedlam, Reynard's club.

"Is there a reason she is to receive this?"

"He wanted her to have it… As an apology… When was she turned?" Yet another question from Dylan's mouth.

"Last week."

"I just wanted to make sure Reynard wasn't lying about it.. Said her father turned her. I didn't know she had family in town."

As it turned out, Reynard had lied to him. LaCroix wasn't about to hint at it. It was likely better that this fledgling not know he was the one who embraced Diana.

"Yes, well.. This is your trial: You will be brought to Santa Monica, where an agent by the name of Mercurio will contact you. He will provide the details of your labor. Don't come back until you complete this trial."

On stage, Diana had approached the ashen corpse of Reynard. She stared down at his skull, still smoldering in the pile. Something about it got her to thinking about everything that had happened to her in her life. Her father, aunt, and mother disappeared, presumably dead. She reunited with her family, and was used for fresh blood by the Camarilla Prince. The only thing about the latter was that he didn't just cast her out. He turned her, presumably against his better judgment. He kept her around, regardless of the fact that she was useless to him now. Perhaps that was enough reason to hope.

Perhaps the scene she witnessed that day was enough to make her understand him a little more. She understood that where was a reason it was called the Masquerade. You couldn't be yourself without fear of being attacked for it. The man she saw on that stage today was confident, unmoved by opposition, a pillar of charismatic strength. Somehow, through all these realizations, she found it in her dead heart to forgive him for whatever he had done to piss her off in the first place. They needed time.

LaCroix found Diana kneeling beside the pile of ashes. She seemed to be in deep thought, and so he approached her slowly. She looked back at him as his dress shoes clicked upon the wooden stage. Both were aware of how they needed to leave. She stood, and proceeded to leave with him without words.

As they passed through the front doors of the Theatre, LaCroix could see that she had a change of opinion in the last several moments. He didn't care to ask, feeling it was better to let her ponder on whatever it was that lingered at the forefront of her mind. Her arms were crossed over her chest as if the cold attacked her; then again, it was a rather chilly Los Angeles night. Her tiny black dress betrayed neo-gothic design, fastened to her body by a leather corset. The skirt of it didn't go past mid thigh, and that might be half the reason she was cold… that is if she weren't dead.

"Something bothering you, Adelle?"

"Not really.." She said, as if musing," I forgive you, by the way."

"So easily? I expected you to boil over it for nights.." LaCroix chuckled mockingly.

That chuckle might have annoyed someone else, but it didn't bother Diana. It was his way of acknowledging a joke. She was beginning to adjust to it, and personally found 'life' with him more enjoyable than attempting to hunt him. Past his mounds of paper work, past all the official things, there were a few moments in their time that they were able to simply relax and talk. That walk was one of those moments.

"Well, when I watched you tonight, I started to understand some things about you, things that I think I can live with."

"Then we have an understanding?"

"Yeah, yeah we do."

It was the start of a more logical partnership, the kind of partnership one might see LaCroix in publicly. Of course, they both entered it with the belief that it might stay that way. Diana wouldn't be happy with it like that for long.. At least now, she had a platform to build on. Her little house of cards was turning into a building of solid walls.

AN: Wohoo! Finished it just as my dad walked through the door with my Sims 3 package.. Hallelujah!


	6. The Copy Cat and the Matchmaker

Christian Hall's Undead Sex Life Proverb Number 3 - " Always bring blood packs. Like condoms for humans, except they protect from frenzy and not pregnancy…. Frenzy during sex is bad, and unlike condoms, blood makes the sex much more fun."

AN: Things are going well! I've been writing here and there when I'm not playing Sims 3. So here's the next chapter! Lots of love to my fantastic reviewers. My LaCroix family currently has 4 kids and another on the way! Yay for horny Diana and Sebastian! xD

_You have to get close to the flame to see what you're made of - _My Little Phoenix by Tarja Turunen

* * *

The previous night had been long and hard for Diana, leaving her in the wakes of her dreams until nine o'clock. Still considered an early time for most Kindred, she often found herself awakening just as the sun set, which might have been a bad thing if not for her careful eye on the clock. As she sat up to face the next night, her eyes immediately fell upon her nightstand. The brittle piece of paper LaCroix had received the previous night lay there, accompanied by a note and what appeared to be a business credit card in her name.

She stood, still wobbly from sleep, and reached for the note on top of the deed.

_Adelle,_

_This was left for you by Reynard. His Childe and former ghoul handed it to me as I escorted him to the back door of the Theatre. He says that it was Reynard's apology to you, and I suppose we all know what for. I have left with it a credit card with which you can make necessary adjustments to the club; a design team has already been asked to meet you at Bedlam by 11 o'clock. They are used to working nights, so don't worry about any suspicions. Your father made sure to choose a suitable group. _

_Good Luck_

_SL_

She took this as a good sign from LaCroix. He was willing to help her and allow her to run the little club of Bedlam, though the business isn't exactly what she hoped to enter now that she was one of the damned. She prepared for the night with a rather whimsical black top with wide sleeves to the tips of her fingers. She kept it tight around her with a red vest that stopped just above her waist. It was her turn to be the one with the tight pants, taking a tid-bit from Underworld and sporting leather pants and heeled boots. She thought the outfit was suitable for a club owner.. Even if extensive cleavage was absent.

She tamed the daring mess of long black curls on her head with a simple bit of hair spray, and with that, she was out the door. Herself, LaCroix, her aunt and her father all had their own rooms on the penthouse level of the tower. Perhaps this was to always be near the business, but the view was spectacular enough to keep that fact off Diana's mind. The entire Southern wall of her own personal room was made of windows, and thankfully came with their own slide in blinds that reminded her of traditional Japanese doors. As she understood it, the room used to belong to her father who apparently gave it up for her comfort. Nice to know family was looking out for her.

A Lotus Exige from her aunt, a nice pent-house room from her father. Being born into her family wasn't so bad, even if everyone in it had been turned into vampires. These things were enough to keep her mind of LaCroix as she rode down the elevator alone, waiting for the doors to let her out and send her on her way to the parking garage. She wasted no time getting there, disappearing into the night in a quick blaze of red heat.

Bedlam made its home along the road that extended between Santa Monica and downtown. Diana hadn't been there in a very long time and had once hoped to keep it that way. She feared that Reynard's memory would never leave the club, but part of her preferred it. He presented to her an opportunity, one that she never thought would be a consideration. The club and Dylan's presence as one of the Kindred gave her a foothold that she shouldn't have, given how young as she was. She was thankful for it, if only for the feeling in her heart that she would need that foothold in the near future.

Diana pulled into the empty parking lot of Bedlam at 10:45. Closer to the building was a white van where two women waited. They looked like the types to take care of designing a night club. She didn't care to take much more stock of them besides the obvious plans folded beneath their arms. She approached them with an almost practiced speech and from there began preparations….

Back at the tower, LaCroix was about to receive a visitor. This visitor had been there the previous night, and he was well known for his strong libido. Christian Hall had decided to return, but the business he wanted to discuss had nothing to do with the previous night's events.. Maybe it did. He hoped to speak on the subject of Diana, and perhaps sway his old friend into a more light-hearted position on the girl. He saw possibilities for her with LaCroix, and there was no denying it. Certainly all of the primogen saw it when the pair stood together.

He entered the office with his usual bravado, throwing up his arms in greeting to his French friend. Ah, the times they had shared! They fought each other at Waterloo, and afterwords both of them were turned. They ran into each other again, but this time off of the battlefield. Christian decided that he would teach LaCroix English in exchange for learning some French. It was a fair deal, and despite their huge differences, they managed to be inseparable.. Like Pinky and the Brain.

"What do you want this time, Christian?"

"Just to talk… about Diana." "You mean Adelle."

"I still call her Diana because she still gives me the creeps.. But yeah, whatever you wanna call her," Christian waved off his correction, pulling one of the leather seats near LaCroix's desk.

"What exactly do you want to discuss?" "The pair of you."

LaCroix simply blinked at Christian, who now wore a rather meddlesome looking grin. They stared each other down in the moment before the Toreador folded his arms and glared at the Ventrue.

"Y'know what I'm talking about… Don't gimme that look."

"If you are expecting me to lead you into your point, then forget it. I am not interested in what you have to say on the matter."

"But you're gonna hear it anyway! Now I know how you gotta look all big and powerful, without weakness.. But you aren't going to win over anyone with that kind of attitude. The whole reason the Camarilla follows you is because you're heartless. You do what you have to do, and that's the reason you're in that seat. Those Anarchs won't accept someone like you 'cause of that. They're quiet now, but soon enough they'll get their old fire back. The truth of the whole matter is that they don't know how to react to Diana. Hell, I've seen it!"

"Some of them automatically hate her 'cause she's your Childe, but she already has relations with some of them, like Isaac, V.V., and Ash. The Hollywood Anarchs are looking at her through broken glass now; they don't know what to think. Now I really hate to suggest this, but if you act as if you love her, then they might see you in a different light. Isaac is the Baron of Hollywood, and the closest thing the Anarchs have to a leader.."

"I have to give you credit for being serious for one moment, Christian.."

"Meh, I'm really just doing this so you can get laid.. Maybe _that _will help your attitude," The Toreador grinned.

"It doesn't help yours, now does it?"

"I couldn't be like this if I didn't get laid all the time," Christian laughed lightly.

LaCroix genuinely smiled, for once happy to partake in his old friend's deranged humor. No matter what they might speak of together, Christian had a way of finding humor in it. He was one of the few the Camarilla Prince knew that kept the darkness out. Lucky Englishman.

"See? You can still smile! At least there's some humanity left in you. Still, give it a chance with Diana, eh? She wants you, that's clear as day. I happen to think you want her deep down underneath that cold complex of yours… but sadly, there isn't enough humanity in you to let it out."

"What are you saying, Christian?"

"That--in all honesty--- you are a heartless predator in a suit. You've forgotten what it means to be in the skin we're in. We weren't put in it to be damned. It was just our luck that we wound up with this curse. We were made for being happy, and I love my women cause of that. I'm not going to mope; I'm not going to get angry and tear shit apart. Only one thing about me has changed since I got embraced: My food source. You were a good man--once… Then again, I guess no one can be as lucky as me.."

Christian stood, feeling he had little else he wanted to say or talk about. With a final look to his friend, he waved without words of good-bye. He had no jokes to share, laughs to create, or stories to tell about recent conquests. He didn't care about those things in that moment. He only wanted his dear friend to wake up. The LaCroix at that desk wasn't the LaCroix he met 200 years ago. He knew that very well, and it wasn't a pleasant thought. Their difference in blood only divided them more; LaCroix did not have the capacity to hang on to his humanity.

"Where are you going?" LaCroix asked, as if surprised Christian would leave it at that.

"Out. Maybe I'll see you later tonight. I need to go talk to someone else."

Christian took the same route as Diana had earlier that night, waiting inside the dark elevator. He hadn't been to Hollywood in awhile, but that night sounded like a good one. Diana needed someone who would fight for her, and just maybe the girl in Christian's mind would. A Tzimisce Antitribu was rare, but just as powerful as their Sabbat counterparts. Diana would need strength in the coming nights; he could feel it in his bones. She needed power to attract LaCroix, he surmised. A Tzimisce Antitribu and possibly a former Tremere Reagent seemed to be a good start.

Antitribu in themselves hadn't been seen in the city for a long time. Rarely ever did a vampire abandon their natural factions. His own Clan used to be bound to the Sabbat, but somewhere in history the Camarilla gained their loyalty. He Didn't really care when or how it happened. His only concern was convincing the Tzimisce 'traitor' to aid the fledgling Ventrue and keep her from going under.

He knew this girl to not be of Old Clan Tzimisce, seeing as they are usually the ones possessing the title of Antitribu to the younger, flesh crafting version of the Clan. He drove quickly and without care as he made his way to her domain: a large warehouse set separate for her by Isaac Abrams. She had a way of convincing anyone that she was on their side.

As usual, he couldn't see any light through the dusty windows. He stepped out of his own vehicle in order to enter the large warehouse through the singular door. He opened it, only for his ears to be assaulted by zombie like hissing and moaning. She hadn't changed in the last few weeks. He found a source of light as he snaked past many creatures he had seen in horror movies, ranging from the Silent Hill Nurses to Nemesis from Resident Evil.

He heard gunshots, which he assumed came from the TV a young, blond headed girl sat in front of. Upon a table before her laid the poor bastard who would become whatever it was that she was studying. She looked away, giving Christian some of her attention. Her big ol' blue eyes stared at him across the space, and he couldn't help but shiver. He knew what she was capable of, given how she had survived so long as a Child Vampire.

"Yes, Christian?" Her voice was childlike and angelic, very misleading.

"Claudia, I need your help."

AN: the Tzimisce Antitribu is a tribute to everything I love in horror. XD If you couldn't tell. She will be one of my favorite characters, and mostly because of how she'll help Diana and LaCroix. Uh-oh! I just spoiled how it will end....sort of.


	7. The Beginning

_I am the freak in control not a control freak. I am the sheep that got away. - _Wreak Havoc by Angelspit

AN: WARNING! Serious Nines Rodriguez bashing. I hate the bastard so… it could get ugly.

* * *

"With what?" The tiny, blond, version of Alessa from Silent Hill inquired.

She patted the blood soaked couch she sat on, beckoning Christian over. He did as she insisted, sitting down to find that she was watching Resident Evil: Apocalypse, undoubtedly for inspiration. He felt sorry for the unconscious bastard on her coffee table. He remained distracted by these things for only a few moments before he came to understand that what he came to speak to her about was very likely to be important.

" I assume you've heard about Diana?"

"Bach's little soldier? LaCroix's new plaything? Oh yes, I've heard!" She chuckled like an innocent child once again, voice still poisoned with her Tzimisce nature.

"I was wondering if you would be interested in helping her out.." Christian leaned back on the couch, letting out a sight of relief to find it was dry.

"What would I get for it?"

"Its as simple as that?" Christian looked at her disbelievingly.

"I know it will be interesting! She seems like the kind of girl that doesn't want to be walked on, and LaCroix seems like the kind of guy who couldn't tolerate a headstrong woman. I get the feeling you're trying to get him attracted to her by giving her the keys to the kingdom… Like Reynard."

"What?" Christian leaned in, surprised that Claudia might know anything about Reynard and what he might have been doing.

" He gave her Bedlam so that she would have her own stronghold. He made calls to get people to LA that would help her. He didn't want her to get controlled by LaCroix. On the contrary, he wanted _her_ to control _LaCroix._ Soon enough, she'll have the prophetic eyes of Ophelia, the strong arm, quick blade, and rapid fire of Ophelia's sister Imelda, and you want her to have my creations at her disposal? That's enough to get LaCroix to cry like a baby desperate for a feeding! There's not a single Kuei-Jin, Anarch, or Sabbat dumb-shit with power like mine!"

"You put too much faith in your creations, Claudia."

"Oh no, Christian. It is you who puts too little faith in them. I am not a clumsy, blood bonded Tzimisce like my brethren! I know what it is to perfect vicissitude. Look at my beautiful creations! Perfect representations from the minds of Kine!" She motioned around her.

Christian would hardly call the Tyrant, three fingered ultra-zombie from Resident Evil, beautiful. Nor would he consider Pyramid Head from Silent Hill quite the looker as it stood far back in the shadows. The nurses were another thing, though he thought he saw blinking lights in all of their sides.

"Are those…bombs?"

"Yes! I call them Nurse Grenades! Haven't had a need for them yet, but by the sounds of things, I will," she smiled confidently.

"Now..what is it that you want in exchange for helping Diana?"

" I want every Resident Evil game and their consoles, Every Silent Hill game, Left 4 Dead, and the Resident Evil movies. I have this one rented out!" She pointed to her television.

"How did you manage that with your appearance?"

"Pay-per-View."

The woman by the name of Imelda had recently arrived in LA, just as Claudia had said. She made her current hang-out at the Last Round. She was beginning to wear of it, even if she considered herself an Anarch. As if to keep up an appearance, she sat on the second floor of the smelly bar with a glass of water that she twisted around in her hand. She didn't think she could take another second of Nines Rodriguez and his shit talk. Not only was it annoying, but he didn't have the guts to say it to the subject's face.

Where she came from, the Anarch Free State of Seattle, they told their enemies exactly what they thought of them…at least she did, anyway. She tried to distract herself by accessing her email on her cell phone, which she used almost singularly for such a purpose. A new message bore the title Witch-Goddess, and she decided that she would look at it after examining a message from Reynard.

_Imelda_

_By the time you receive this email, I am surely on my way to Final Death. When the time smiles on you, hopefully soon, I would like for you to come to LA. If you request pay for what I am about to ask, you may find it beneath the lowest bar shelf at Bedlam, assuming Diana doesn't rip it up too much during remodeling. _

_You are strong beyond your years, wiser than any Gangrel I have ever known. I ask that you guide and fight for the Ventrue Fledgling by the name of Adelle 'Diana' LaCroix. She will need you and anyone else she can get on her side in the coming nights, and I pray that Caine finds it in his blood to give her more aid than what I have managed to provide. I fear Dylan will be of no aid to her, poisoned with a believed betrayal between the two. Doubtless that he will work for LaCroix and despise it if only for the fact that he must gaze upon Diana each time he returns to the tower.._

_I will never forget you, Imelda. Thank you for everything you taught me._

If she could cry, she might have as she read over it again. Reynard's words proved to be enough of a distraction from Nines Rodriguez, but she couldn't overlook the new message. Something about it told her that she had to open it soon.

_Sister_

_I see you at the place of Rebels and Whiskey. Tonight I bring with me the Witch-Goddess, and when we come we are to discuss our musketry! Four shall bare arms for the White Queen and defend. Twisted Hilt, please do not be offending by my new speech! The Witch-Goddess seems to understand me, and I hope you shall see through my madness. _

_The Copy Cat and all her creations come by the heralding sagging pants!_

Imelda looked over toward the stairs, confused but intrigued by the message. She had only one person in her life whom she would still consider a sister in unlife, and that was her true sister. Ophelia had gone missing after she was claimed by a Malkavian, and Imelda didn't doubt that her practically identical twin had the potential to reach LA.

She waited, once more being consumed by the annoying voices of the LA Anarchs. Vulgar and impolite as they seemed to always be, she thought she heard her name come up in the conversation. It was enough to cause her to strike out, slamming her palm down upon the shot glass, shattering it on the already splintered tabletop.

"What's your fucking problem?" The one called Damsel snapped at her.

Imelda assumed she was a Brujah, gifted with brute strength and unnamed passion for whatever she could grab a hold of it. Only True Brujah had managed to gather a shred of Imelda's respect in days before, and she could feel that LA Brujah would not gain any at all.

"Is this what you do all night? Sit and complain about how terrible the Camarilla is?" Imelda shook her head, pushing her hair back over her shoulders," Because its no wonder Anarchs aren't given any deserved respect in this city. You people sound like you're in drunken rage more than anything. No one's gonna take you seriously. If you really want recognition, why don't you go out there and do something rather than stew in your rage. Pitiful bunch, you are!"

"Who the fuck are you anyway? You ain't got the right to talk to us like that!" Damsel returned

"Oh yeah? I don't have the right? Fuckin prove it, you little shit. I will wipe the floor with your face in thirty goddamn seconds if that's how you wanna play."

Imelda stood quickly, moving her hand within her coat in order to remove a 9 millimeter handgun. She grinned at those that looked at her, almost beckoning them into the fray.

"Now look, we don't want to fight. Put your gun away, and we'll go downstairs if it bother's you so much."

She was surprised to hear this from Nines Rodriguez. He was either afraid of her, or simply not in the mood to take on a fellow Anarch. She had slight respect for him, but something in his tone of voice still left her uneasy. She didn't like him, and it was a matter of instinct. She doubted that he would ever earn her respect or even loyalty.. Hell, she might wind up Camarilla in LA.

As she returned her gun to its holster, Imelda's eyes landed upon a familiar figure coming up the stairs. It was her dear sister, who responded to her shock with a smile. Behind her was Rebecca, who appeared to simply be along for the ride. Ophelia approached her sister quietly, enveloping her in a delighted hug. It was returned. The girls once shared everything, and it now included the Curse of the Damned.

"Ophelia!" Imelda sighed happily.

"Good to see sights of you, Twisted Hilt! The Witch-Queen is here too!"

The so called Witch-Queen merely nodded," My name is Rebecca. Good to meet you….?"

"Imelda."

"Very well, Imelda. Ophelia seems to think that the three of us, and one other, will have to fight for and protect a young Ventrue by the name--"

"Of Adelle? Or maybe Diana? A close friend asked me to watch over her," Imelda interrupted the former regent.

" Then I suppose the lot of us really are going to be taking care of her.."

They spent their night discussing Ophelia's visions, particularly of the one that was told in such great detail, but in such whispers, that Imelda would never forget it. She believed the night was possible. She could see it just as her sister did, and she didn't even know those involved.

"_He WILL NOT be Executed! I won't have it!"_

"_That decision doesn't lay with you, Diana," Nines Rodriguez scolded._

_In a large circle sat the powers of LA, apparently in LaCroix's office. He was the only one not present out of the Primogen and leaders of the Anarchs. Diana sat at the gold polished desk, fist having pounded the wood with tremendous ferocity and anger with her fellow Kindred._

"_And who does it lay with? You? Does everything lay with you, Mr. Rodriguez? Who do you really think you are, pullin up your pants and sticking your nose in the air like you're better than the rest of us? Fuck you, Mr. Rodriguez! I don't give a damn about your ideals! I don't give a damn if you want to see my husband burn, or his head roll, or whatever you want! You're too inhuman to understand what we had. Every single one of you can go to hell if you think I'm gonna let him die just like that, like I never cared about him!"_

"_Diana, please. Calm down," Strauss urged, but it was to no avail._

"_I will not calm down! Get out! Get out of here, all of you! Obviously, my opinion on this matter isn't important because I will ALWAYS oppose you."_

"_You can't just-"_

"_Bull shit, I own this God damn tower now! Its in my rights to kick you out of my Elysium!"_

She seemed so angry and helpless.. Poor woman.

She wasn't so angry as she drove home from her session with the designers responsible for Bedlam's renovation. Indeed, she might have been in a good mood, if not from an email she received from Isaac during the meeting. She felt it was badly timed, and she didn't feel she had the time to do what he asked. Visit.

_Diana_

_We need to talk. It seems that you've been dragged in on the wrong side of the fence, and I plan on bailing you out. Come to Hollywood when you get the chance; I don't feel an email is the appropriate outlet for what I need to say to you._

_T_hat didn't sound very comforting, and she couldn't help but reflect on it as she pulled into her parking spot. She scarcely remembered to lock the door as she made her trek to the Tower from the Parking Garage. It was a long walk, she surmised. Perhaps taking the taxi would rid her of the whole deal. Its not like she needed the exercise. She didn't even bother to ask for the security guard to call the elevator down. He had likely fallen into the habit of buzzing her up without question. Thankfully, he had.

She didn't want to see LaCroix that night. No, not after the previous night. No matter how she convinced herself to feel, she could still see herself in his arms. Maybe not safe, maybe not warm, but with him. It was a dream, an irresponsible and impossible dream; she knew that. However, that may have been what made the relationship so appealing to her: the challenge, the control, the differences.

In all honesty, she didn't really want to think about LaCroix. She wanted to wait for the sun to rise and to simply sink into sleep as if he never entered her thoughts. She wanted a simple night, not strange conflicts in her heart or her mind. As she pondered on her future, she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever see a simple night. Too bad that she wouldn't get such a night as she approached her room.

Upon first entering the spacious room, nothing felt wrong. She threw her bag onto the bed without closing the door behind her, and as she turned to close it, she saw someone pushing it closed from behind it. LaCroix stood there, seemingly intent on speaking with her. Diana didn't like this at all.

"What are you doing in my room?"


	8. In the Daylight It Wakes

AN: Writing this due to insomnia, but also due to the desire of a sexy, sweet little moment between an OC and LaCroix. HOT chapter, bordering on mature…possibly even needs to be upped to mature. It doesn't get too crazy..

_You are what my sins enclose. Lust is not as creative as its discovery -_She is My Sin by Nightwish

* * *

Diana didn't do anything but stare. What could she say, or even do, at the sight of LaCroix in her room? The few loose papers she still held to her chest slid out of her now slack grip and sailed slowly to the floor. All was silent, silent like the grave. It was something she didn't like, and therefore, Diana reached for the stereo remote on her nightstand. A simple click of the power button awoke the sleeping beast.

_Did you ever hear what I told you? Did you ever read what I wrote you? Did you ever listen to what we played? Did you ever let in what the world said? Did we get this far just to feel your hate? Did we play to become more pawns in the game?_

It was for their strangely relevant lyrics that Diana had come to love the band Nightwish. It was for her strangely habitual taste in music that she didn't feel the need to speak. LaCroix seemed to take the music into consideration as he now leaned against her wall.

_How blind can you be? Don't you see? you chose the long road, but we'll be waiting.. Bye Bye Beautiful._

"You have interesting tastes. For the kind of woman you often appear to be, I would never expect you to listen to this.."

"I tend to be complex," She responded without thought.

"So I've noticed."

"I assume that the redesign of Bedlam is going well? You don't appear to be stressed."

"I don't think you're here to make small talk of my day, Sebastian."

The Camarilla Prince abandoned his place and began to approach her. She didn't move from her spot, but rather stood her ground and waited for him. She wanted to know what this was about, but she hoped for what she shouldn't. Her heart wanted to beat within her chest again, and the only way it would was with the rediscovery of their lust for each other. She knew it was still there, but that didn't mean that LaCroix would acknowledge it anymore.

She felt it even now as her husband for all intensive purposes came closer. The air felt thick around her, but she chose to ignore it for now. It may be better for them both if she paid attention to the subject at hand.

"Christian came to speak to me today. He seems to believe that there is benefit in the relationship we have stumbled into."

How well put.. Stumbled into. Diana couldn't help but bite her lip as he said those words. If anything, the pair dove into it. He was the only one fighting to get out of the hole.

"I am determined to make the best of this."

They weren't words Diana expected to here. No, she rather expected him to explain how foolish he thought Christian to be, how stupid the idea even seemed that he should be with Diana. The more she thought about it in the silence that followed his statement, she realized that there were many things that made the relationship promising now. What he saw in it was power. What she saw in it was an embrace, a slight comfort in the undeath she never thought she'd experience.

"Are you serious?" These three words were all that Diana could manage.

"Completely."

"Then prove it."

All at once, the tiny, Half-Japanese Kindred came at him. He was surprised by her sudden seizing of the moment, the obvious lust radiating off of her as she pressed her lips to his in a desperate motion. He didn't react at first, pondering on the feeling he had once preferred to forget. Those supple lips were still as warm as he remembered, though he was sure that it was the heat of her desire that made them so. In all truth, he felt a little warm too.

LaCroix decided it was best to not let her down, to do what Christian had suggested: fake love. He gave Diana what she wanted, a returned kiss. She seemed to bask in it, melting against him as if she were an accessory. She fit him like an article of clothing, curving in all the right places and close enough to feel right. Even when he was alive, he never met a woman who did that for him.

It would be easier to fake loving someone like her, he thought as he indulged his Childe. She now seemed more than capable of understanding their relationship as it would stand to others, what was private and what was public, and how he operated. Maybe it was what she said to him the previous night that convinced him of this, or maybe it was her opportunistic attack upon the moment they currently shared.

The rhythms of Nightwish wracked Diana's brain as much as her closeness with LaCroix. The night before, she had promised herself not to think of him like this again. She realized then that even if she had tried with her entire being, it never would have happened. The taste of his flesh left her hungry once again. It wasn't just the danger of it anymore. Now, she thought that there might be something festering in her heart, egged on by the lust that stormed her senses.

What surprised her was that he began to push her backward with force that left her bewildered. She didn't fight, regardless of what might happen to her. She wanted to think that they were going to share the morning like real lovers. It was all she could think of in the fog of lust and desire and heavy kisses. She tumbled over onto her bed, form being dominated by LaCroix who still stood. He was bent over her, never giving up contact with her lips. He was taking the opportunity to remove her tall boots, and his fingers tracing over her calf as he unzipped her boots sent shocks through her body. She hadn't been touched quite like that in awhile.

It was the excitement that made that simple touch so electric, so necessary. She hadn't felt such a shock from such a simple bit of contact since her first time with Dylan. She hated thinking of him then, but the Tremere didn't stay in her mind long.

LaCroix was just as lost as she was. It wasn't like him to be like this. Indeed, the feelings that overwhelmed him left him believing that Christian somehow gained control of him. The bedroom was Christian's territory, but that wasn't stopping him as he let Diana begin unbuttoning his dress coat. He too was lost in the lusty fog that consumed them mere seconds ago, and it was a feeling he wasn't quite sure how to approach.

He didn't like being lost. No, he rather liked having complete control. The desire he had for her body bordered on the realms of how he once lusted after her blood. Just thinking of it left the taste on his tongue, forced him to continue his advances despite the mixing feelings in his chest. A strange concoction of comfort and discomfort overwhelmed him then. He wanted this, more so than he cared to acknowledge, but he also didn't know what would come from it. He hated that.

The lamp that provided light to the room was dangerously close to Diana's flailing leg. She considered wrapping it around his waist, but thought it much wiser to simply knock over the lamp and rest her foot upon the ground. As hoped, the light bulb broke and left them in darkness. One could still see the other, but the veil cast by the dark made their actions and motives easier to deal with.

LaCroix didn't leave her room that night. Whatever happened in there was muffled by the blaring symphonic-metal of Nightwish. Those in the vicinity of Diana's room wondered.. They wondered what kind of trouble brewed on the horizon, what sort of happenings might come to pass between Sire and Childe. It was a night neither would soon forget, a night that started it all.

"You can't fake loving someone if you didn't love them before."

* * *

AN: Shorter than usual, but it far makes up for length in substance. I just _had _to write something like this. I thought that their feelings needed some kind of exposure, and I thought it made more sense for it to be a primal exposure rather than through words. I can't see LaCroix straight up saying," I love you," or, "I want you." He'd just seize the opportunity and run with it, I think.. Granted most people never even thought of him getting his undead freak on.


	9. Waking up Alone

AN: I listened to virtually lyric-less music as I wrote most of this chapter, but there was one song I kept coming to that did have lyrics.. And please, please review! I accept any kind of criticism or comments, though flames will make me sad! Like any other writer, I thrive on feedback!.. And no reviews makes me feel bad, cause I don't know if any of you like it or not. Also, I know it has been a very long time since my last post, but the computer on which all of my data was saved on had been out of commission till very recently.

_The Truth is, the meaning of your life is that you wouldn't have one if you were poor- _Kidding by Imogen Heap

Diana awoke the following night alone. It was painfully obvious as she twisted and turned, reaching out to the other side of her bed in search for the man that populated it the morning before. His presence could not be found, but the soft cotton shirt she found herself swimming in certainly belonged to him. The music was off. The lamp had been replaced upon the nightstand, and the broken light bulb had been swept into the trash bin.

She didn't bother turning on the lamp; the layout of her room was familiar enough to navigate, even without her heightened vision. With precision, she slid out of bed and walked toward the bathroom, eager to clean off. Her body felt laden with a sweat she hadn't felt for awhile, and her chest bore a weight she was unaccustomed to.

Diana flipped the light switch without thought once she pushed the wooden door to the bathroom open, and in the light she could see the dark grey color of the buttoned up shirt she was adorned in. Perhaps he slid her into it as he left, taking into consideration her state of nakedness. She wasn't sure what had gone through LaCroix's head, or quite frankly her own, the previous night.

A shower sounded relaxing, and so Diana rolled up her sleeves in order to turn the water on. As it warmed, she abandoned the cotton shell upon the bathroom's marble counter, pale grey in all the beauty of the tower's décor. Mere milliseconds lulled the former hunter into the security of a nice, hot shower. The tranquility of it, the sounds of the water droplets colliding with her skin and the shower floor, left her room to think.

She needed it. What had happened to her in the wee hours of the morning existed in her mind as a simple blur. In all incidents in her life that even vaguely resembled this one, she had never been abandoned in the bed. That could mean many things, but then again, it might just have been LaCroix's automatic response; get out before notice is taken.

One shampoo, face-washing, and body cleansing later, Diana stepped out and reached for the white towel that hung upon the steel towel rack. She felt better now, but that dreadful weight still bore down on her heart. Did she have time to go talk to LaCroix? Certainly not, she thought. It must have been nearly eleven o'clock, and she needed to go speak to Isaac as well. The Toreador wouldn't act kindly if he knew she decided to talk over her feelings with LaCroix before seeking counsel from him.

She stepped out into her room, this time walking toward the door. Though she was wrapped in her towel, she hit the switch that would slide the covers off of the huge windows on the east facing wall. She was several hundred feet in the air at least, so far up that no other buildings reached as high into the sky as her room reached. Peeping toms were the least of her concerns.

The natural light of the moon and the stars flooded in, providing enough illumination for Diana to pick out her clothing for the day. She didn't pay close attention to the articles she chose, finding it irrelevant to really care. Isaac never took note of her attire, aside from when she would walk into the dance classes he taught. If she felt the need, she would change before speaking with LaCroix that night.

She gathered up her things that still lay strewn upon the floor, settling her boots into her closet and her clothes in a bundle in her arms. She stepped into her bathroom and gathered up the shirt LaCroix had left her in. With all of this, she made her way to the laundry room down the hall.

Four hampers waited for the clothes that often occupied them; it was easy to distinguish which one belonged to which inhabitant. The tall black one belonged to LaCroix, sat beside various hangers which suits hung on, awaiting a trip to the drycleaners. Diana dispatched his shirt into this one, as if this could dispatch any inquisitions as to what happened the night before.

Beside it was her own hamper, red among the paler and less outspoken tones of both the room and the other hampers. With a toss, she deposited her clothes into it and turned around. She was faced by her aunt who wore both a interested and amused grin on her face. A certain quality in her eyes betrayed worry only a family member was capable of.

"Why did you have Sebastian's shirt?" She inquired, voice doused in curiosity.

The question caused Diana to flinch. Should she really tell her aunt of her romping with the Camarilla Prince? It might be best if she merely dropped a hint..

"Let's just say that Christian exercised his influence."

Cecilia blinked, knowing full well what it meant but not quite believing it. Though she had been separated from her niece for several years, she knew that she wouldn't lie about something that big. Should she press the issue? No, that sounded like a very bad idea to her.

"Well… go about your business.."

Diana abandoned the room quickly, almost without thought. It was the last thing she wanted, to talk about what happened. The conversation topic was saved for when she could speak with LaCroix. It would linger in her mind until then, sure, but it wouldn't hinder her thinking anymore than that.. At least, that's what she hoped.

In Hollywood, Christian stood patiently before Isaac's desk, wishing to speak with his fellow Toreador. The older one took a deep breath and looked up, a look of wonder in his eyes. It wasn't often that Christian went out of his way to swing by the jewelry store, and it was a surprise that he came on that day out of them all. He hadn't hoped to see two poor, unfortunate souls that had been dragged in to LaCroix's fly trap in one night.

"What a pleasant surprise, Christian. Is there something you need?"

"Do I ever _not_ need something when I come to see you? What I'm here about though isn't something I need, though. I wanted to speak to you about Diana," the flamboyant Christian spoke.

"I'm expecting her to arrive some time tonight, so you may as well tell me what you want me to say now."

"Its not that I want you to say anything to her, its just that I thought you might like to know what I heard when I woke up this sunset."

Isaac braced himself. He knew the power of rumors in the Kindred world, and he feared any that might be directed at Diana. She was too young for this kind of attention, too fresh out of mortality. This wasn't her place, and she would never learn properly as long as she was in LaCroix's care. Simply by being his Childe, she was denied a normal unlife.

"Its probably just a rumor, but a friend of mine told me that LaCroix didn't come out of Diana's room last night. One of two things happened: She either killed him, or they had sex. Neither sounds very promising to me, though you know that LaCroix needs to get laid!"

"Diana doesn't need him dragging her under. If it were up to me, she'd be pulled out of there so fast he wouldn't see it coming," Isaac waved a hand dismissively to Christian's rumor mongering, as if it had little effect on what he had already decided on.

"But he would see it coming. If there's one thing you should know about LaCroix by now is that he has eyes everywhere--- a good majority of them on Diana…The good news for you is that I have some eyes I can put in there for you," Christian spoke softly, as if he didn't want anyone but Isaac to hear his last sentence.

"Who?"

"Me, silly!"

From the door, a young female voice called out. There stood Claudia, smiling gently at the pair of Toreador. She began to speak again, this time authoritatively.

"Don't you try to talk her out of things. I want to talk to her, Isaac! What do you have to say to that? Nothing, I hope.. Because Nemesis is outside that door waiting to blow your brains out if I don't get the chance to have my say with the talk of the town!"


End file.
